Mission No 001260
by Ad Absurdum
Summary: Enterprise encounters a Minshara class planet, but the trip there isn't particularly successful. Humour may be a bit risque.


_**A/N: **__Translation of one of my older fics (and I really don't know why such completely ridiculous things like this one seem to practically write themselves). Enjoy._

_**Disclaimer: **__Star Trek: Enterprise – not mine. No profit made._

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**Mission No. 001260**

In a galaxy not very far away, in a vacuum of space filled with a billion (or something around it) stars and similar, though most likely completely different, number of planets, travelled a spaceship: NX-01 Enterprise. This pride and joy of Starfleet with its brave crew on board was the first Earth vessel trekking through space and seeking new life and new civilisations and boldly going where no Human had gone before.

Although the Vulcans certainly had.

That was one nosy race. They also annoyed other species with their unemotional approach to life and everything else. However, since the Enterprise left Earth, its Captain – Jonathan Archer – had time to notice that some Vulcans were fairly easy on the eye. Some Vulcans being, in that case, one Sub-commander named T'Pol. She was the First Officer as well as the Science Officer on Enterprise and, what's more important, she wore very tight uniforms that clearly accentuated her feminine figure.

Yes, Archer was quite pleased with the fact that if he had to have and irritating Vulcan in his crew, she also had assets which were very nice-looking.

With a tremendous effort the Captain took his eyes off of T'Pol's assets and turned to look at the rest of people present on the Bridge.

At the station closest to T'Pol's sat Ensign Hoshi Sato – a linguistic wunderkind and a 'walking universal translator' to her friends. Her everyday job description read: intergalactic phone operator. Hoshi's, er... assets weren't as obvious as T'Pol's, but in her defence it has to be said that Starfleet uniforms – unlike the Vulcan ones – were more practical: they had pockets and they made breathing much easier.

The Enterprise helm was cheerfully manned by Travis Mayweather. He didn't talk too much, probably because of his origins. Travis was born and brought up on a freighter and it is widely known that in space 'no one can hear you scream' so why bother talking? From time to time, however, Travis opened his mouth to share with the rest of the crew some of the truths he was taught by harsh boomers' life and also by his grandma. 'Don't wink, Kathy, around the attic', 'Dilithium crystal is not to be pissed at' and 'If you can patch holes in a shuttlepod's hull with potatoes from your mess hall, it's high time to change the cook. Or the labels on storage containers.' – these were but a few pearls of intellect and wisdom in Travis's possession.

As the Enterprise helmsman he was irreplaceable, though, because he had a very good sense of direction.

On the right side of the Captain's chair there were two stations: tactical and engineering. The latter should be occupied by the Chief Engineer, Commander Charles Tucker III (but everybody called him Trip) when he felt like hanging around the Bridge, as opposed to actually working down in Engineering. Usually though, the place was empty because Trip preferred to stand behind the tactical station that was manned by Lieutenant Malcolm Reed – Chief Armoury Officer and Chief of Security.

When one day Archer asked Trip why he always stood there, the man mumbled something about getting nervous when he had Reed behind his back.

Apart from that, Commander Tucker came from the South of the U.S. and because of that he had a funny accent that made women swoon and men envy. Well, not really although Trip sometimes liked to think so. In his free time he liked to lose his uniform, chat up girls (he wasn't picky about the species) and argue with T'Pol or Malcolm.

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed sat at his station, as every good Starfleet officer should, and focussed on a screen on his console. Absolutely nothing betrayed the fact that he was using the ship's computer for playing noughts and crosses. This proud and extremely well-mannered son of Albion proudly represented the proud British people in space. He (and every sane Brit as well as the Starfleet Command) knew that Americans fail rather spectacularly as far as manners are concerned. As a tactical officer he naturally had a lot of tact. Beside that, he also had a slight case of paranoia and conspiracy mania, which things made him an exceptionally good security officer.

Jonathan Archer puffed out his chest, contented – he had an excellent crew. With no less satisfaction he thought that he himself was an excellent captain. He was smart, wise, charitable, brave, loving (towards his dog), understanding (his crew), but also firm if such a need arose, strong, handsome—

"Captain," Archer's musings were interrupted by T'Pol. The Captain frowned a little because the Vulcan cut in on his train of thought at his favourite point. "We are approaching a Minshara-class planet."

"Oh wow! Really?" Captain Archer often exhibited almost child-like enthusiasm when faced with the possibility of First Contact with unknown civilisation. T'Pol ignored the enthusiasm and went on, "The planet consists of three continents and is inhabited by approximately three billion humanoid beings. Warp capable species."

The Captain was a little disappointed.

"So, we won't be dressing up?" Trip voiced his own disappointment.

"Maybe next time," Archer hurried to reassure him, at the same time trying to forget one particularly persistent memory of Trip in disguise. Some two months earlier Enterprise had encountered a pre-warp civilisation. It was a planet populated by a species consisting solely of women. The Captain definitely wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to visit the planet only because he was of the wrong sex. Trip whined that he'd gladly stretch his legs too, so in the end they both borrowed dresses from Ensign Franklin from Security. She was the only female on Enterprise, wearing clothes of the size that would fit the Commander and the Captain. And Hoshi was ordered to put a make-up on both of her commanding officers.

The effect was beyond belief.

After two days of seeing Trip like this, Archer had nightmares for the next two weeks.

The sight of Jonathan Archer in a dress, however, unexpectedly boosted Malcolm Reed's confidence. When the Lieutenant was invited to have breakfast with the Captain again, all it took to calm his nerves was a memory of Archer on that fateful mission. Reeds were not afraid of transvestites.

The Captain would be perhaps more understanding as far as Trip's disguise went, if he had a chance of getting to know some of the planet's inhabitants closer. Much closer, in fact. Unfortunately the women, despite the lack of men in their society, weren't all that keen on one another's company either. In T'Pol's opinion – which she expressed the next day after the mission ended, and during breakfast, no less – it was because men _never_ existed there. Researching human sexuality, T'Pol came to a conclusion that the attraction some human females felt towards members of their own sex was caused by human males' behaviour. Namely by the way men always left toilet lids open and belched during meals. At this point the Vulcan looked at Archer meaningfully, though the Captain didn't really know why she did that. Continuing her lecture, T'Pol explained that the female society was completely asexual and their chosen method of reproduction was gemmation, which words caused the Captain to lose what was left of his appetite.

Let's get back on track, though, shall we?

"Captain," said Ensign Sato, "we're being hailed from the planet."

Archer took on his most captainly pose and commanded "On screen."

The alien didn't look very humanoid. He looked rather like a cross between a duck and a potato, Jonathan thought, slightly confused.

"I am Chel, the High Tribune of Aterra. State the purpose of your visit," the alien mumbled in a nasal tone.

Archer thought that apparently this species used their nose for speaking, although he did notice on Chel's face something that looked like a mouth. Still staring, the Captain kept thinking how it didn't really pay off to expect alien races to resemble Humans in every aspect.

"Ssssir!" Hoshi hissed, yanking Archer from his musings.

"What? Oh. Ah... we're from a planet called Earth. My name is Jonathan Archer and I'm the captain of this starship. Our mission is one of peaceful exploration. Can we land on your planet and, er... do a bit of sightseeing?" Jonathan sent Chel his widest smile.

Chel looked suspiciously at that, cleared his throat and mumbled, "All visitors are welcomed to our planet. We only ask that there'll be no smoking, no kissing in public, no rallying, no supporting of alternative life-styles, no telling jokes that are difficult to understand and please, keep off the grass."

The Captain was a little overwhelmed.

"Uh, well, all right then. Can we hope for a meeting with you, High Tribune?" Jon batted his eyelashes. It was a cunning tactical manoeuvre he had recently seen Reed employ. It worked when the Lieutenant wanted to get from Trip and his precioussss warp engine more power for the Armoury systems, but Chel wasn't very impressed.

"Captain, please cease this boot-licking, I've got my own people for that. And, of course, we can meet. If I am unavailable, you will meet with the Vice-Tribune. It won't matter anyway because we look exactly the same." Chel ended his transmission.

The Captain, a bit confused, for some time stared at the screen that now showed only stars. Eventually he turned around, flopped into his chair, sighed and scratched his head. Then remembering he was on the Bridge and that he was being observed by his crew, he got his act together and ordered, "Travis, put us in orbit and prepare a shuttlepod."

"Yes, sir." Mayweather smiled, happy that he finally managed to say something. First time that day and it was already 14:00.

"You think they'll give us something to eat?" Trip asked forlornly, resting his hands on the edge of Reed's station. "I haven't eaten anything since breakfast because I had to replace all the fuses on F Deck. Someone blew them to all hell."

Malcolm ruthlessly quelled the pangs of his conscience – the blown fuses were sort of his fault. He'd just built something that was supposed to be a portable forcefield emitter, but so far it only emitted an irritating buzzing noise and a couple of TV stations from Earth. Reed wondered if perhaps it oughtn't to be a source of pride for him. After all, Enterprise was far away from their homeplanet. But when he saw yet another repeat of _Bold & Beautiful_ and a couple of American sitcoms, he decided that television was a plague that zombiefied people and so he half-dismantled his prototype. The part that was left didn't buzz and was supposed to work as Malcolm had initially intended it to, but instead it blew every fuse near the Armoury.

Commander Tucker didn't need to know that, however. Reed adopted an expression that with a healthy dose of imagination could mean he sympathised with Trip, and grunted noncommittally.

Meanwhile, the Captain was thinking hard about who else – apart from Trip – he should bundle into the shuttlepod. Sato, for sure. She could come in handy when the Universal Translator went off-line again. Jonathan didn't feel like repeating what had happened on Ognaral X, where UT stopped working the moment Archer tried to ask a friendly-looking alien where the nearest restaurant was. The conversation ended in a street fight with at least twenty people involved. The Captain suspected that the blame for the whole incident lay squarely on his never-used-since-he-was-20 French. Since the early years of primary school Jon had remembered French as a language full of treachery, though, sadly, from the vocabulary itself, he remembered little.

However, he did remember that during that particular away mission, Reed was quite useful too. Or actually it was his phase pistol that was useful. Especially when in the fight someone had been about to abuse Jonathan's captainly dignity. Yes, Reed would definitely come with them as well.

And he'd have to take his Science Officer. The Vulcan was always complaining and she had no sense of humour, but if he got bored during the meeting with Chel, he would at least be able to stare at her—

"Captain," Mayweather's voice came out of the comm unit. "The shuttlepod is ready."

"Excellent. Trip, T'Pol, Malcolm, Hoshi – let's go." The Captain herded everybody into a turbolift.

It was a little crowded inside, but no one complained really, although Malcolm did frown, slightly annoyed, when he felt someone pinch his bum.

Archer was a bit more uncomfortable, though. He stood pressed against Trip and something hard in the Commander's pocket poked Jon rather unpleasantly in the side. The Captain was determined to look at the bright side of the situation, though – apparently his Chief Engineer was so dedicated to his job that he always carried some tools in the pockets of his uniform.

Screwdriver. Or a hyperspanner, by the shape of it.

Jonathan decided that any attempt on his part to feel it might be taken the entirely wrong way.

T'Pol, in turn, tried not to breath too deeply – even her extra strong nasal numbing agent proved to be insufficient at times.

Luckily, the turbolift came to a halt and everyone could move into the shuttlepod which was a little bigger, but admittedly not much.

The journey itself didn't last long and the landing procedure took only an hour, as Travis was looking for One Perfect Place To Land.

Yeah, Archer also took Mayweather with them because in the end he decided it wasn't a good day for his captainly piloting.

Mayweather finally stopped looking for his Perfect Place when the Captain verbalised his impatience ("Travis, land this thing, for God's sake, before we all get old") and backed it with a resounding smack.

The planet was pretty ordinary, if you didn't pay attention to a violently violet sky and some white shrubbery growing here and there. The grass had, however, a friendly green colour.

The welcoming committee that was waiting for the Enterprise crew also wore friendly grimaces on their faces, which fact also helped to create a nice and calming atmosphere.

Walking towards the aforementioned friendly grimaces, Hoshi stepped into something small and yellow that was lying on the ground. The small and yellow thing made a sort of squishy sound and Hoshi wrinkled her pretty little nose.

"Ew, that's horrible," she said disgusted and wiped her boot on the grass.

"Then be careful, Ensign Sato, and do not step into things you consider horrible," T'Pol said in a lecturing tone.

The group reached the Aterran welcoming committee without further incidents.

"I'm Jonathan Archer, the Captain of Enterprise." Jonathan extended a hand in greeting.

One of the (this time) quite humanoid aliens looked at Jon's hand with deep suspicion then he glanced to his left and then to his right. Eventually, he cleared his throat and spoke, "I'm Hatygiar. And you are arrested because you squashed the isp."

The Captain's smile wilted on his face like a summer flower in wintertime.

"Wh—What?" he finally spluttered.

Hatygiar gestured to his two companions. "Arrest them."

"Keep your shirt on, all right?" Trip stepped forwards. "We didn't squash anything, honest. We didn't have the time. And what's this isp anyway?"

The Aterrans eyed the Engineer with distaste. Hoshi poked at UT and then she paled significantly.

"Commander, they mean the ISP which in plain English means Small, Yellow and Squeaky." Hoshi gulped nervously.

"Really? Huh." Trip scratched his head. Then he went back to arguing with the local authorities.

"Yeah, like I said. We didn't squash anything. It was her," Trip pointed an accusing finger at Hoshi Sato.

"Trip!" Hoshi looked like she would cry any second.

"Commander Tucker is right," T'Pol stated in the grave manner she usually reserved for the occasions when Trip was indeed right.

"T'Pol!" Hoshi turned her wounded gaze and a trembling lower lip to the Vulcan.

Hatygiar just stood with a bored expression, but after contemplating the situation for some time, during which everybody held their collective breath, he said, "Oh, all right. We can agree to arresting only her."

"Excuse me. One moment, please." Reed, who had just woken up from his daydreaming about photon torpedos, realised that perhaps he'd have a chance of using a phase pistol at least. "I wouldn't recommend arresting anyone."

"And why is that?"

"Because Ensign Sato had no wish to step on anything. It was an accident for which the Captain is about to apologise." Malcolm none too gently drove his elbow into Archer's side.

"Huh? Oh, right. We are very sorry for, er... squashing ISP. It was not on purpose." Archer smiled innocently. Or at least he tried to.

Aterrans didn't look like they were satisfied with that.

"We are not satisfied," Hatygiar grumbled sour-faced. "Arrest her."

Hatygiar's men moved to do just that, but Reed had already drawn his pistol and stunned one of them.

"Stay right where you are!" he barked.

"Oh, Malcolm," Hoshi fluttered her eyelashes and draped herself over the Lieutenant's arm.

"Please unhand me, Ensign." Malcolm smoothly freed himself from Hoshi's embrace, but this short moment of inattention was enough for Hatygiar to whip out his own phase pistol – unfortunately, bigger – and fire two well-aimed shots which rendered Sato and Reed unconscious.

"Anyone else has anything to share?"

Archer, Tucker, T'Pol and Mayweather took a step backwards.

"All right, then," Hatygiar brightened. "You may follow us and see how we punish the off-worlders who trample on our fauna," he added, tying up Hoshi and Malcolm with a piece of rope. "We have these cool express-courts. Ten minutes and it'll be over."

"And then what?" Archer decided to ask.

"And then they'll go to prison for a year or five."

The Aterrans hoisted the two tied Humans up on their backs. "Let's go. The hearing is in half an hour."

And off they went, a spring in their step, while the Humans trailed behind.

Hoshi and Malcolm were carried to one of the court buildings and sat in a cosy-looking court room, on a rather uncomfortable bench where they finally regained consciousness. The rest of the Enterprise crew settled on the nearby and equally uncomfortable benches which were already half-filled with local people. They curiously watched the aliens from Earth and Vulcan.

"I feel like a bug under a microscope," Trip mumbled.

"Meaning, like what?" asked Travis.

"A little squashed." Trip pulled his hand from under the fat bottom of some woman that was seated next to him.

"Order!" one of the guards called as a judge entered the room. The hearing began.

"These Earthlings present here," the prosecutor took a long and disdainful look at the accused, "broke the law. She trampled over ISP and he jumped an important civil servant."

The room gasped collectively with outrage.

There wasn't anyone who would defend the Humans, so the Judge bashed his gavel against the table and said "In that case, both are sentenced to three years—"

"A moment, please." T'Pol stood up from her place. "I have read the Aterran protocols and regulations and they all say that pregnant women cannot be sent to prison. Ensign Sato is pregnant, therefore she ought to be released."

The court room filled with whispers while Trip, Jon and Travis looked now at T'Pol, now at one another and then at Hoshi, their eyes full of disbelief and no little fear.

The Judge also didn't seem too pleased.

"May we at least know who is the perpetrator of said pregnancy?"

"Of course," T'Pol nodded graciously. "It's Captain Archer."

"Ew, that's gross," sounded a voice in the room. Other Aterrans seemed to be of similar opinion.

"Jon?"

"Captain?"

Tucker and Mayweather gaped at their commanding officer.

"But I didn't... no way," Jonathan fervently denied, glancing nervously around. "I never even touched her."

"Captain, please, calm down," T'Pol said quietly. "We know that, but the locals do not. And now, according to the law, they have to give us Ensign Sato back."

"Oh," Archer sighed with relief. "That's OK, then."

"Order!" the Judge was meanwhile trying to silence the audience. When he finally succeeded, he continued. "Well, in _that_ case, the accused is allowed to go back where she came from."

In the blink of an eye Hoshi ran to sit beside the Vulcan.

"Thank you, T'Pol."

"You're welcome, Ensign. You owe me fifty bucks."

The Judge sighed and turned to Malcolm who was watching all this rather at a loss for words (or anything else for that matter).

"All right, then this one here is sentenced—"

"No, wait!" the inspiration struck and Trip jumped from his seat. "He's pregnant too!"

Malcolm blanched.

"That's impossible." The prosecutor was also standing and waving some papers in front of Trip's nose. "He is a man, although an alien one, and he can't be pregnant."

All eyes focussed on Tucker.

"Er... well. I mean, no." Trip threw a desperate look at his crewmates – no help there. "What I wanted to say was that it's me who's pregnant. And he's the father."

The Judge found it quite revolting. Malcolm understood him prefectly because after hearing that, he felt a bit sick himself.

"I mean, you know," Trip started to warm to the subject, "we love each other something fierce and we want to get married and this pregnancy was supposed to be a surprise and..."

Malcolm felt like he was going to faint.

"Well now, _this_ is just disgusting. Shame, preverts in the court room," some of the Aterrans shouted. "Alien UFO and they do such nasty things, it's unthinkable."

The fat woman sitting next to Trip, moved as far away from him as it was possible.

"Yes, this casts new light on the case." The Judge looked at Tucker with clear distaste and then turned his eyes to Reed. "It is a widely known fact that such a perversion—" here the Judge paused meaningfully "—is contagious. Please, leave this building and our planet immediately."

He hit the gavel on the table and stated "From now on, Humans and Vulcans are forbidden from visiting our planet. The case is closed."

There was a mad dash for the exit, the Judge leading the way.

"Well, that went pretty good." Trip smiled happily when the Enterprise crew were left alone.

"Trip, but you're not pregnant, are you?" the Captain asked hesitantly.

"Nah, 'course not. Once was enough."

"Oh, good then." Archer could breathe a little easier. "But maybe you and Malcolm want to tell me something?"

"Like what?" Trip was a bit confused.

"The Captain wants to know if you and Lieutenant Reed are involved romantically," T'Pol explained.

"Absolutely not," Malcolm nearly spat out the words. He'd had enough for one day.

"Well, no." Trip scratched his nose, somewhat dejected. Then his face brightened again. "But I did save your ass, right, Mal?"

"Yes, quite. Thank you, Mr Tucker."

Just in case, Malcolm didn't turn his back to Trip and maintained a safe two-metre distance from the Commander all the way back to Enterprise.

"So, that's it then," Jonathan said resigned, when they returned to the ship. "I guess this mission wasn't really our best one."

"Hey, we could go there again," Trip voiced his treacly optimistic thought.

"I would like to remind you, Commander, that in fact we could not." There was something in T'Pol's tone that sounded suspiciously like irritation.

"Then we can finally dress up, so they won't recognise us." Trip's aren't-I-clever smile was as bright as a new-born sun, but the only answer he got was deadly silence.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"


End file.
